


puppy love in the time of wolves

by idioglossia



Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Young Army Era, fluffier than it sounds, listen most of this fic was based around what I know about residential schools, listen these boys love each other that's it, read it as you ship it, so all the trigger warnings are related to that, the canadian ones not like boarding school, to a certain degree of happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioglossia/pseuds/idioglossia
Summary: “Hmh. I’m still sorry,” he said, suddenly sad. “Sorry about everything.”“Don’t be,” 409 repeated softly. His hand slid into 412’s and gently squeezed. “Don’t be, okay? You’re what makes this place good.”“Really?”“Really,” he said, and 412 smiled.-Things in the Young Army are bad, but at least 412 has 409.
Relationships: Septimus Heap & Mandy Marwick, Septimus Heap/Mandy Marwick
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40





	puppy love in the time of wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is kind of terrible and only lightly edited
> 
> While there is a lot of hope in this fic, this is the Young Army era, and while I don't go too in depth, there are... implications. I might write more in this universe/era later, but this is just a one-shot for now!

The Young Army barracks were no place for any child, let alone the dozens huddled behind the Custodian’s paper-thin walls. It certainly was no place for the pair of boys huddled into one bed, their whispers just quiet enough to not be picked up by the restless sleepers around them.

“We should leave too,” one whispered to the other, his lips tickling at the other’s ear. He was very close to getting some of the blond boy’s hair in his mouth, but he didn’t care. “If 410 and 411 could do it, why can’t we? We’ll be safe if we can get away from them, 412. You’ll never have to let any of those monsters touch you, or see you, or hear you ever again.”

The blond, despite his fear, thought about it. 412 was no stranger to the wandering hands of some of the higher ranking officers, nor the gruelling training for a war he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight. Running sounded like a much better option than staying when he thought about it like that, but then he remembered what would happen if they _failed_ \- and that was his worst nightmare.

“Oh-nine, you know we can’t. If we get caught…” he whispered back, and then squeezed at his friend’s hand for support. 412 remembered the bloody sight of 437’s back, how he’d had to be carried away, how no one had seen him for weeks afterward. How he’d come back pale and scared, less than a shadow of the bold boy he was before. He doubted the images would ever fade from his mind. “I don’t want to- to-”

“Shhhh,” 409 reassured, rubbing his thumb over the back of 412’s hand. “I wouldn’t let that happen. You know I would _never_ let that happen to you.”

“Not even you can stop them, oh-nine. If we run, and they catch us, it’s game over. We’re worse than dead.”

Before 409 could reply, they both heard the faint sound of footsteps. Like a cat in the night, 412’s friend snuck back into his bed and they both pretended resolutely they were asleep. From their positions, less than three feet apart, facing each other, he could still hear 409’s steady breathing.

The pair of boots left, turning down to the next room, but neither of them dared to sneak back into bed together. It was late, 412 reasoned. They needed sleep before roll call tomorrow, and they couldn’t both sleep in one bed.

Miserable and remarkably lonely, 412 drifted off into a peaceless sleep.

-

Once again, 409 and 412 were nestled together, heads pressed close. Tonight, however, they were not in the drafty, damp barracks they called home, but in the middle of the woods, hidden as best as two barely changed children could be. It was another Do or Die, and there was nothing left for them to Do but wait and hope.

409’s arms were wrapped securely around 412’s waist as 412 peered out his carefully disguised peephole. If they were listening to the plans that Young Army cadets were supposed to abide by, one of them should have been asleep, waiting to take the watch. Realistically, they were both scared and joyful in the middle of the surprisingly noisy woods. There was no chance that either 412 or 409 were sleeping for some time.

“Do you ever wonder,” 409 began, resting his chin on 412’s shoulder. “What were our families like?”

“Nah, not really. I don’t see the point in it. It’s not like I’ll ever meet them,” he said. Tentatively, he brought one hand up to 409’s unruly hair. In theory, it had the same cut as 412’s own, but 409’s was much curlier and much less co-operative. It gave the barber nightmares. “And besides, I’ve already got every one I care about right here. They’d just be more people.”

409 hummed in response, leaning into the fingers tracing over his scalp. “Yeah, that’s true. But 412, they’re probably people who love you.”

“No one loves me. No one loves any of us.”

“ _I_ love you.” In typical 409 fashion, it was delivered with quiet emotion. “We love each other. And I bet you the moon that our families love us too. You know how many of the older kids say that they were snatched from their parents.”

The last part was spoken quickly. 412 figured that 409 wanted to distract from the fact he’d just said “I love you”. They were practically taboo words in the Young Army. Love was for other people, the officers would say.

But… 412 closed his eyes, let his hand settle on 409’s head. He hadn’t known how much those words had meant to him until they’d been spoken, but now he wanted to cling to them and never let go.

“I… love you too, you know. Whatever that means.”

With 409’s head pressed so close to his own, 412 felt his friend’s face morph into a smile. “See? We’ve got people who love us. Maybe not a lot of people, but people’s people.”

412 risked a small laugh. “That doesn’t make sense, oh-nine.”

“Shut up, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

409 threw his arms up, just a little, in mock frustration. “You know what I mean! Gosh, you’re so _rude_.”

“I’d be more polite if I could understand what was coming out of your mouth,” he teased, tugging 409’s arms around him. It was cold outside, with winter beginning to set in properly, and his friend was very warm.

He huffed through his nose, settling back down again. “Brat. I should abandon you to the wolverines.”

“You love me, remember? You wouldn’t dare,” 412 said, pushing the limits a little.

“Watch me. I’ll relish every crunch.”

412 laughed again, still quiet in case there really were wolverines outside. He twisted around just enough to see the profile of 409’s face.

“You love me,” he said softly, soaking in his friend’s image. His lips curled up, just a little.

“Yeah. I do.” 409 was just as soft. “And you love me too.”

412 leaned fully into his friend’s grasp, and turned his eyes back to the peephole. “Yeah, I do.”

Despite the cold and the distant howls and screams, the atmosphere in the dugout stayed warm for the rest of the night.

-

The kiss was the product of terror and stupid crushes and tears at midnight. If you had asked 412 to talk about what he’d felt in that moment, he would have been able to do nothing but blush. Of course, 412 wasn’t talkative in the first place, and you’d need to know that the kiss had happened in the first place, and there weren’t exactly many people who cared enough about 412 to ask him. In fact, the only person who cared enough to ask was the person who he'd kissed; 409.

It had started something like this: 412 had been the unfortunate boy picked by the Chief Cadet to come “visit” his chambers that night. It wasn’t really an invitation, and nor was it really said. Everyone knew from the way that 412 had been forced to sit with him at dinner, how the Chief Cadet had put one bony hand firmly on 412’s knee, how that hand had slid up as the meal went on. 

And everyone knew what happened afterwards too; the unfortunate would follow the Chief Cadet back to his rooms when the eating was done, and he would come back hours later, cheeks tearstained and clothing askew. Some of the more rebellious ones would come back with bruises and cuts, the fight beaten out of them.

412 was not one of the ones who fought. He thought that he was lucky, when it came right down to it. He wasn’t really one of the Chief Cadet’s favourites, like 426 or 403, nor was he one of the ones he hated, like 409 or 417. 412 just was, passed over by everyone and everything but 409. He liked it that way.

But still, every boy went through the Chief Cadet’s bed at some point. That night, it had been him.

409 had stayed up to wait for him, was the first thing he noticed when he came back, freshly bathed at the Chief Cadet’s instruction. He could just barely spot that his friend’s eyes were open, looking like slits of the moon. When he saw that 412 was coming, he lifted one arm, leaving a spot in the covers for 412 to crawl into.

“What mood was he in?” whispered 409, draping the raised arm over 412’s shoulders and up close against his back. 412 was chosen more often that the other boy was, and they had a sort of ritual for then those times came. “Did he-?”

“It wasn’t that bad tonight,” he replied, although it tasted like a lie. Every touch of the Chief Cadet’s hands felt like a brand against 412’s fragile skin. Every kiss felt like a new sort of death. “I don’t think I’ll have any bruises. He just- took a really long time, is all.”

A sigh, then 409’s slightly cold nose was pressed against 412’s cheek. “I wish I could kill him, for what he does to us. For what he does to _you_.”

“You can’t think like that, oh-nine,” 412 protested, but the words were hollow, even to him. “You’ll get in big trouble.”

409 snorted softly. “I’m always in big trouble. They hate me already. They may as well hate me for a real reason.”

There was nothing 412 could say to that, and a silence fell over them. For a few minutes, he let the sounds of his sleeping troop mates wash over him and just relaxed by 409’s side. Even though the barracks were forever in the middle of the Big Freeze, the two of them made enough body heat to stay warm.

“You know how the old Chief Cadet said that kissing was for when two people loved each other?” 409 said abruptly and 412 brought his focus back to his friend.

“Yeah, I guess? But that was a lie, you know that. It was like the moon stories. No one’s ever been off here.”

“Well- what if he wasn’t lying?” 409 was speaking fast, and while 412 couldn’t be sure in the dark, he thought he might be blushing. “What if kissing only counted if you loved the person you were kissing?”

“That would be nice,” 412 spoke slowly, unable to see where this was going. “Then I wouldn’t have kissed anyone yet.”

It clicked, and 412 knew it was showing on his face. “Oh!”

409 nodded vigorously, a massive grin overtaking his other features. “See? Not everything in the old Chief’s stories was a lie.”

“Only most of it,” 412 grinned, and then they both fell silent for a long moment. 409 brought one hand up to 412’s hair and gently started combing through it. 412 wrapped one arm tentatively around his friend’s waist, letting his hand settle gently on his back. They were face to face tonight, with only a few inches between them. It helped to fight off the cold of the night, but mostly, it was just nice to have someone close and safe.

It was one of those rare moments where 412 would have said without hesitation that he felt perfectly at ease. That was 409’s special gift; he held the power to make the world a safe place, at least for one long moment.

But, as all good things did in the Young Army, the moment had to end. There was a noise nearby, and the faint whispers that usually floated around the barracks at night suddenly stopped. It drew closer, becoming the distinct tapping of two shoes on the floor, and everyone knew that it was time to retreat, pretend that they were asleep, and pray that whoever it was didn’t come for them. It was time for 412 to retreat to his own bed.

But before he did, he paused, halfway out of the sheets. 409 peered at him, obviously wondering what he was thinking. The answer to that question was that he was asking himself what he wanted to do. If kissing was for people who loved each other, and 409 loved 412, and 412 loved him back, then he could…?

The footsteps drew closer yet, and 412 knew he was out of time. Acting partly on impulse, he darted forwards and landed a quick peck on 409’s lips, hoping his blush didn’t show in the darkness of the night. Just as the door to the barracks opened, 412 made it into his own bed, pulling up the scratchy sheets and closing his eyes tightly.

“Alright,” called the rough voice of the Chief Cadet. “Everybody up! Up, up, up! It’s time to Do, to it’s time to Die!’

Internally, 412 sighed, but he stood dutifully and marched out with the rest of his platoon. 409, as usual, stayed by his side. 412 was too nervous to look over at his friend, but he could feel their hands brushing. It seemed deliberate, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Finally, once they were outside and on their way to the woods, 409 grabbed his wrist. 412 turned slightly towards him, but kept walking. Their fellow soldiers wouldn’t tattle, but their superiors would certainly take action.

“Hey,” 412 whispered to him.

409 grinned, then pressed a quick kiss to 412’s cheek. “Hey. You didn’t give me a chance to kiss you back.”

A slow smile spread across 412’s face. This time, he knew that his blush would be fully visible, but he found he didn’t quite mind. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” 409 whispered back. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“Hmh. I’m still sorry,” he said, suddenly sad. “Sorry about everything.”

“Don’t be,” 409 repeated softly. His hand slid into 412’s and gently squeezed. “Don’t be, okay? You’re what makes this place good.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, and 412 smiled.

“I love you,” he said, and he meant it.

“I love you too,” 409 said. 412 knew that he meant it too.

They had to break apart after that; one of the older officers was looking at them suspiciously, and neither of them wanted to risk anything. But even with that, the mood stayed high- at least, for them.

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it! I don't post much about Septimus Heap rn, but I'm nonbinary-androids on Tumblr.


End file.
